Òran Mór

Spotting a native Glaswegian in a kilt excited me as much as encountering our first lion in Amboseli.  His dog turned his back, so I cropped out the critter.

We were on our way to Òran Mór, a former church, in West Glasgow.  A sweet salesman at the store where I bought a pair of hiking boots tipped us off to "A Play, a Pie and a Pint" when I asked what was the one thing he'd recommend doing.  "The Necropolis," he replied, so I knew we were kindred spirits and asked him for number-two on his list.  Thom was skeptical.

It did seem to be a little odd entering a huge, empty bar at noon with two tickets.

But 16 pounds gave us admission to the basement, where I redeemed my first ticket for a pint of Tennent's.

Let me tell you, Not Now, an hour-long comedy about a uncle with a secret and a grieving nephew in need of a shove was 100% more enjoyable than the Tony-nominated production of Hangmen, a UK import I'd seen recently.  Thom laughed as much as I did although we did miss some of the dialogue due to the actors' accents And we got to eat and drink, too, along with the rest of the full house!  Plays change every week, unless they're held over by popular demand.

Afterward, we explored the glorious bar.

Paul, a local artist who had been commissioned to touch up some of his original work, chatted us up.  "You're going to hear a lot more from David Ireland," he predicted.  "His last play imagined an affair between Tony Blair and George Bush during the Iraq war."

We talked so long,that the irate manager told him to call it a day, he needed the table.